Tall, Tatted and Tempting (The Reed Brothers 1)

I nod, my face still buried in my pillow.

I sob until I am too exhausted to do more. Then I sleep the rest of the flight. They wake me up to buckle when it’s time to land. I go to the bathroom and wash my face, brushing my hair and cleaning up. My dad is going to have a shit fit no matter what. But I can at least look presentable.

The limo pulls up beside the plane just as soon as it lands. Watkins opens the door and I slide inside. But then I stop. My mother is inside. She’s perfectly put together, as always. Her brown eyes are not the ones I want to be looking into. I want Logan’s blue gaze. His are the eyes I want to see. She looks at me, and at Watkins, who closes the door behind me and goes to sit with the driver. He never does that. But my mother can accomplish just about anything with nothing more than a look. “Emily,” she says crisply.

“Mom,” I reply.

“You look like hell,” she says. And her face finally cracks into a smile.

“Where’s Dad?” I twirl a lock of my black hair around my finger.

“Your father is in the doghouse I’m afraid. He bungled this terribly. And so he’s no longer in charge of this little matter.”

My mother never does this. I didn’t think she had a spine at all. “What?”

“Your father is the reason why you ran away from home. Your father is the reason why you have been gone for more than six months. Your father and his conniving are the reason why I lost my daughter.” Her voice cracks on the last word. My mother never falls apart. Ever. But she does now. Tears roll down her cheeks and she reaches for me. I fall into her. My mother is offering me everything I need right now.

“I’m going to mess up your clothes,” I warn, sniffling.

“Mess me up. I don’t care.” She squeezes me to her. “Tell me everything.”

I sit back. “You don’t want to hear everything.”

She sighs. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Mom,” I complain.

“I’ll start it for you,” she says, smiling. She mocks my bored tone and says, “Well, there’s this boy…” She motions for me to finish.

I tell my mother the story about why I left, where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing.

At the end of my story, she says, “Your father still expects you to marry that boy.”

I nod. “I know.”

“But that will never, ever happen.”

My gaze shoots to her.

“We’re going to the salon. And then we’re going to take care of this.”

“Mom,” I breathe. “I promised Dad.”

She pats my hand. “You’ll see. Trust me.” And for some reason, I do.

For the next four hours, we change my hair color back to its natural shade, paint my nails a glossy pink instead of black, “because we don’t want to buck the system but just so much,” and she sends someone to get me a new outfit. She has a flock of people doing her bidding.

When we’re done, I feel like my old self. But I’m not. I never will be.

We pull up to our home and the gates are open. I’m so confused. There are news vans everywhere. “What’s this, Mom?” I ask.

“This is me handling this situation for you.” She absently runs a hand down the length of my hair. “You’re a smart girl, Emily. You can make your own choices.”

Tears prick at the backs of my eyelids. I’m a smart girl. Someone other than Logan said it.

Logan

I’m terrified. Emily is gone, but her guitar is still here. She was gone before I got up this morning. Her black bag is gone. And all of her belongings, except her guitar. She wouldn’t have left, would she? Not for good. Paul sits beside me on the couch and he knocks my hand from my mouth when I chew my fingernails. “She’ll be back,” he says. “Stop worrying.”

She won’t be back. I’m sure of it. I realized that by telling me her name last night and letting me inside her, she wasn’t telling me she loves me. She was telling me goodbye. It hurts like nothing ever has when I realize that, but it’s true. I’m sure of it.

The phone rings. I jump when the lights flash, signaling the ringer. Paul runs to answer it. “Matt says to turn the news on,” Paul says, as he turns the TV on and flips the channels.

The new anchor starts to talk. I read the captions as they play across the bottom of the screen.

IN CELEBRITY NEWS TODAY, THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER OF ONE OF THE UNITED STATES’ MOST INFLUENTIAL BUSINESSMEN HAS BEEN FOUND ALIVE TODAY.

“What does this have to do with us?” I ask Paul.

YOU MAY REMEMBER THE MEDIA CIRCUS MORE THAN SIX MONTHS AGO WHEN EMILY MADISON DISAPPEARED.

The TV switches to a picture of a blonde.

Paul slaps my chest hard to get my attention. It hurts like a mother f**ker but my gaze is stuck on the TV.

EMILY MADISON DISAPPEARED MORE THAN SIX MONTHS AGO, BUT SHE RETURNED HOME TODAY.

“That’s my Emily,” I breathe. Her hair is blond. And she has on a million dollar smile, along with some million dollar earrings.

Paul smacks me harder so I have to look at him. “That’s Kit?” he asks.

I wave at him to shut him up. He turns the TV up. I watch the words at the bottom of the screen. I scoot forward so my ass is balanced on the edge of the couch.

EMILY HAS AGREED TO ANSWER A FEW QUESTIONS, the captions say.

I watch as the woman I love steps up to the podium. She blinks and holds her hand up to block the sun. I can see the freckles across the bridge of her nose, and my heart lurches. She’s in California. “Good afternoon,” she says.